unfamiliar jism

it's friday night and i'm dangerously bored.

i'm simmering within the debris of my most recent disagreement with redrum regarding his desire to visit. it's not that i don't want him to stop through. however, i already have one houseguest and she is being quite the bitch. she'd shown up early and unannounced a few hours prior and while i am begrudgedly grateful at her arrival, she has come, as always, with weapons drawn. as soon as she stepped through the door she was stabbing me in the stomach, which in turn left me bleeding all over the place and too short-tempered to play the 'whatever it is i am to him' role with any level of enthusiasm. i am NOT in the mood for entertaining anyone else.

so needless to say, i am no more hospitable when the phone rings shortly after i hang up with redrum. i check the caller id...

kirk? the name sounded vaguely familiar...

who is...OHHHHHH

i'd met him a few weeks back at candy's superhero/super villian themed halloween party. he'd come as "i'm too lazy to come up with something original so i put on this deer hunting outfit, grabbed a bow and arrow, and am calling myself 'guy with arrow'". meanwhile, aunt flo had me feeling bloated so wearing my original superhero outfit had been out of the question. for a second i'd contemplated dressing in red, covering myself in tampons, sticking an open can of tuna in my purse and going as 'the crimson bitch' in protest of my monthly visitor's presence, but i'd talked myself out of it at the last minute.


i instead opted for a mini skirt, three inch heels, and a breast-enhancing blouse with two knitting needles holding up my loc'd french bun and a ball of yarn dangling from my waist. i was calling myself 'knit chick'.

i might not be able to apprehend the bad guys with a golden lasso, but i could embarrass them to death by forcing them to wear really hideous sweaters i created like the ones cosby always wore on his show.
alright, alright...my shit was weak but it was the best i could do on short notice (and with very little imagination).

anyway, so it was at this party where i met kirk, an attractive cat colored in columbian coffee tones with a nicely-muscled frame tucked into his deer hunting outfit. i hadn't really been checking him too hard that night as i'd spent much of the time eyeing the chocolate fountain and fighting with that flo heffa, who'd had me *this close* to shoving my mouth beneath the cascading chocolate and drinking it straight from the source.

"hey there."

i was lying naked beneath a fudge downpour as chiwetel ejiofor ran fresh strawberries over the tips of my breasts before feeding them to me one at a time...

"ahem."

"ooooh chiwe! say my name again baby! i love it when you say my name in that stiffly british accent of yours..."

"um, who's chewy?"

i opened my eyes to find my face precariously close to being drenched in liquid chocolate.

pulling up in embarrassment, i wobbled on my three inch heels as i made eye contact with the man attached to the voice interrupting my fantasy. as stated, he was attractive, although i was still dismayed. flo + chocolate = ignoring men no matter how good they look, at least for the first day or two.

"what?" i responded with a mixture of irritation and inquiry. he did the requisite head to toe look without missing a beat. for once i was hopeful he wouldn't notice da girls in their perky glory cuz i was quite eager to get back to my chiwe fantasy. i tried de-emphasizing the bounty, but it was an effort equal to trying to wipe clean one's ass with a blade of bluegrass.

"who is chewy?" he asked again, his eyes no doubt detailing my drawn brows and frowning mouth.

"ever see the movie 'kinky boots'?" i answered with a question.

"that sounds like porn," his sentence fell into a whisper as he stepped in closer, his gaze sharpening upon my features, "is it a porn flick?"

oh good lord...

"no. it's this british comedy with..."

he took one more step towards me, which was placing him about 4.3 inches outside the boundary of my personal space and about 2.2 inches away from a kick to the crotch.

"whoa, cat," my hands came up and landed on his chest. his broad, dieseled chest.

whoa, caaaaaaat...

i began purring on the inside as i commanded my hands to cease with their exploration.

"what's that noise?"

or maybe it wasn't on the inside. horrified, i dropped my hands and turned toward the table to get myself something to eat. flo had me acting like a horny fool and i had to get a grip on the whoremones before i turned into one moaning whore right there in front of everybody.

"this food looks soooo good!" i exclaimed with only a sliver of a fracture in my delivery, "i don't know what to eat first!"

"the little pigs in the blanket are pretty good," he said as he pointed to the tower o' lil swine swaddled in lil dough squares. i dropped a few of those on my plate and made my way down the table, grabbing anything that looked like it was edible. the food was stacked like jenga blocks on my paper plate. i found a place to sit and slid my mountain to a spot on the table in front of me. dude sat down next to me.

"looks like you're hungry."

if it's facetiousness then he gets a point cuz i love a lil sarcasm. if he's making a harmless declarative statement then he loses a point cuz beginning an initial conversation by stating the obvious usually means the guy lacks the abilities necessary to run with it to the end zone.

"are you being facetious?" i asked all hopeful like a child begging for confirmation of santa's existence.

"what? NO," he declared, sounding sheepish, "you have alot of food on your plate, though."

i deducted the point in disappointment and shoved a piece of swaddled swine into my mouth.

just ONCE i'd like to get a decent present instead of always being left to entertain myself with the dimmest bulbs on the fucking tree.

during the time i was eating, he was talking, primarily about himself, but i wasn't really listening. i kept assessing him on the sly as he continued on, looking for something physical to make up for the complete lack of mental i was detecting with this cat. i mean, i was hungry, but i wasn't thirsty, feel me?

for those who don't know, nikki's scoring system is as follows:

mental attributes = up to ten points

physical attributes = up to ten points

boyfriend material = (mental + physical) > or = 15

this pretty much guarantees i won't be dealing with a butt-ugly dummy over the long-term as a guy cannot score lower than a five in either category if he wants to be my boyfriend.

OKAY, OKAY...before i get a bunch of you commenting on the hideous idiots i've dated in the past, i'll admit there are exceptions. if the guy's penis is between eight and ten inches long, he gets two points, which can be used to get him to the fifteen point total, which in turn means a guy can score as low as three in either category and still have a slim chance at splitting the uprights. however, any guy scoring lower than five in the mental category is only ever eligible for fucking friend status. i'm less hesitant about dating an ugly guy cuz at least i know his looks won't change for the worse. once you've hit ugly on the scale, there's nowhere else to go but up. however, i shouldn't be forced to cohabitate with a dumb guy over the long haul cuz the chance of procreating with the fool increases over time and i do not want to have to live with the guilt of populating the world with dumb folk.

i mean, look at what it's done to barb.

luckily for her, there's nowhere to go but up.

and i deduct if the penis is over ten inches long. i'm not looking to get stabbed in the guts. these internal organs are here for a reason and i prefer they remain intact thank you very much.

but i'm digressing...

the thing is...the penis size can't be determined upon first meeting a guy unless i've just given the guy my price list for sexual acts, thus meaning i'm gonna have to resort to the less reliable method...the 'sight test'. i hate the sight test because for one, it means i'm gonna have to find a way to stare at the package long enough to determine a mere guesstimate of the size without being obvious. for two, some men have sight sensors on their penises, thus giving them the ability to know when someone's trying to make contact with the third eye. i don't know how many times i've looked at a man's crotch with the stealth of viet cong, only to glance up and find said man watching me with the "GOTCHA!" grin on his face. for three, it requires i get in close to the crotch of a guy i don't know, which brings its own set of hazards, none of which i need to smell out here.

after convincing myself i was doing it for womankind, i took a deep breath and held it as i dropped a piece of food on the floor and bent over to get it and a gander at the goods on the way up.

his camouflage outfit proved extra effective at hiding the prey from my detection.

another disappointing development.

so i was pretty much stuck listening to him big up himself and losing ground with every word uttered. now i've come across my share of self-absorbed fellas and while by and large the practice of talking only of one's self to the exclusion of others is not a good look, it's tolerable if the guy has an interesting story to tell.

too bad this guy's story was about as interesting as watching a roach crawl across a wall...you're mildly curious in watching where it's headed but only cuz you know you're gonna kill it before it gets there. i painted my face with feigned fascination and settled in for the torture. the only thing saving him from a toothpick stabbing being the looping image in my mind's eye of him writhing on the ground like a roach wrapped in raid after i saturated his face with mace.

i'm sure you're asking yourself why i would bother conversing with him after it was obvious he was not appealing to me on any levels. come on...a single female in atlanta would have to be a lesbian to turn away a single guy. like the leg bone connected to the hip bone, he's the asshole connected to other potential bones, although a sista gotta be careful in the atl cuz sometimes the asshole is carnally connected to the other bones. not that there's anything wrong with it, but i'm not trying to battle my man for the bottom position.

anyway, so at the end of the night we exchanged numbers.

at which point his image was deleted from my memory card.

flash forward to friday. once i remember who he is, i am prompt with hitting the 'ignore' button on my phone, sending the call to voicemail.

he is prompt with calling me back a minute later.

now see, on any other night i would have just hit 'ignore' again, cuz if he's calling me right back, his move reeks of desperation and i don't dig that odor.

unfortunately for me, i am dangerously bored.

so i let it ring another two times, roll my eyes, and pick it up on the fourth ring.

"hello?"

"hello, nikki?"

"yes," i answer, "who is this?"

"it's kirk. we met at ya girl candy's halloween party a month ago."

i let a second pass while i pretend to search for a memory of him.

"oh yeah...you're the fellow rattler. so what's up?" the sentence sounds way more enthusiastic as i type it than it sounded when i said it.


there is a pause, no doubt while kirk notes my lack of emotion at his calling. my mind is now stepping over the fragments of our initial conversation, the jagged edges cutting into my conscious until it's bleeding remembered agony.

"i just called to see what you were up to on a friday night."

i stare into the phone and wonder how rude it would be if i just hung up on the guy. i could play it off like i had phone trouble, which would then make it easy for me to avoid his calls from that point on cuz 'phone trouble' is the visa of all excuses...u can use that shit everywhere and folk just gotta accept it.



but i am dangerously bored...

and he appears to be harmless enough...

a combination that can only bode well for the folk looking to laugh at me in the next installation...